


caught in your orbit like a satellite

by schroedingersfox



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Reunion Fic, no worries any angst is all from waver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schroedingersfox/pseuds/schroedingersfox
Summary: Ritsuka looks over to him, just a glance, but he already knows it. Deep within himself, he knows who she summoned, and why she was so insistent that he be there.Someone jostles him to get a closer look, and he takes in a sharp breath, not realizing he had been holding it, and finds himself backing up.He can’t be here.He needs to be anywhere but here.
Relationships: Iskandar | Rider/Waver Velvet
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	caught in your orbit like a satellite

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while! It's time for something new! Hello to one of my favorite OTPs! y'all don't know how much I've struggled over the past few months trying to get something actually written
> 
> I finally watched Fate/Zero earlier this year (late last? when is time?) and started yelling at how much these two love and respect each other, so please enjoy and comments always appreciated  
> 

Lord El-Melloi II isn’t a coward.

The hallway is bright, too bright, and he keeps his head lowered.

He certainly isn’t running away, just like he’s no longer the stupid, novice mage of nineteen with too much bravado and not enough technique.

He doesn’t register the faces of the staff he walks past.

He’s a proper mage, now, with years of teaching others in a position of authority. An experienced strategist in possession of a keen mind. Only he could use the knowledge Zhuge Liang gave him; only he could merge it seamlessly with his own magic; and he certainly—

Well, he definitely—

…he probably—

***

“I’m performing a summoning just before lunch,” Ritsuka says. She slides into the seat across the library table from him and moves a tower of books out of the way. “Aren’t you going to come along?”

Lord El-Melloi II turns a page and doesn’t look at her. “So soon?”

“Well, yeah,” she says, a bit more hesitant than before. In his peripheral vision, he can see her tuck her hair behind an ear. “I have a really good feeling about this one, you know.”

He looks up at her now. “That’s what you said last time, before you summoned Blackbeard.”

Ritsuka winces. “That’s different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Well,” she says again, “it’d mean a lot if you were there. Especially after the lecture you gave me on catalyst theory. I can do it this time.” A bit quieter, she adds, “We need all the help we can get right now.”

A silence falls between them, and he removes his glasses, setting them aside. “I suppose I can make the time.”

Ritsuka beams at him, and he finds himself smiling back.

***

The summoning circle lights up, energy crackling like a storm, and the quartz used as catalysts glow brightly enough that Lord El-Melloi II shields his eyes.

She’s done it, he thinks, despite the odds. It’s a powerful servant, and they all knew Chaldea could use the additional strength. He briefly wonders who they will be welcoming next, hoping it’s no one too belligerent, and then hears the whinny of a horse and heavy hooves stomping the ground.

Ritsuka looks over to him, just a glance, but he already knows it. Deep within himself, he knows who it is, and why she was so insistent that he be there.

Someone jostles him to get a closer look, and he takes in a sharp breath, not realizing he had been holding it, and finds himself backing up.

He can’t be here.

He needs to be anywhere but here.

***

He leans against the wall and pulls the silver case from the inside pocket of his coat. Cuts the end of a cigar, tries to light it, gives up when his shaking hand breaks the match in half. He lights it with magic, knowing it always affects the taste, and decides that’s the least of his concerns at the moment.

He couldn’t be in the command room, not when he knows he won’t be remembered, not able to face his own disappointment at the lack of recognition.

It will be all right, he lies to himself. He knew this day would come. Chaldea’s big enough, and it’s easy to avoid the servants he would rather not come into contact with.

For the most part.

He slides down sitting, knees brought up to his chest.

_Shit._

The cigar hangs from his fingers, abandoned as he rests his face on his knees. The last one he has, and he’s wasting it. Maybe it’s as good a time to quit as any. He can find a new vice. Drinking can be done in his room, at least, and not the staff smoking room where he could be walked in on at any time.

The door to his left opens.

He looks up, and the cigar falls to the ground as he watches Iskandar glance around the room. Iskandar looks down and meets his gaze, then grins.

“They told me you ran off this way,” Iskandar says.

_No._

“Waver Velvet.”

_What._

Iskandar hasn’t yet moved into the room, still standing in the doorway with his hand on the frame. He looks the same has he did over a decade ago, the gold of his armor glinting under the fluorescent lights. He tilts his head slightly. Waver can’t look away.

“If anything,” Iskandar continues, “I’d say you were running away from me.”

“No, my king,” Waver rasps out, as if Iskandar could call forth an answer just by expecting it.

Iskandar extends a hand, and Waver takes it, allowing himself to be pulled from the ground before he’s crushed into a hug against Iskandar’s chest. The leather cloak strap presses into Waver’s cheek, and when he blinks, he feels wet on his face.

“How?” Waver whispers, voice timid in his shock. He notes in some distant part of himself that returning a hug is much easier now that they’re nearly the same height.

Almost, he amends, when Iskandar tucks his chin on top of Waver’s head.

“Did you think I would forget you?”

“You did once,” Waver countered.

Iskandar hums, and Waver can feel it through all of him. “Did I now?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Waver emphasizes. “ _Idiot._ ”

The arms encircling him squeeze tighter as Iskandar chuckles. He pulls back and cups Waver’s face between his hands. “Never,” he says, voice deep and strong, “would I forget a member of my Ionioi Hetairoi.”

Waver scrunches his face, trying to keep some semblance of control even as he starts crying freely. He buries his face in his scarf, knowing how splotchy his face is surely turning, and Iskandar laughs and pulls him back into an embrace.

They stand there until Waver’s sobs recede.

“You grew taller,” Iskandar says presently.

Waver nods.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I’m trying to quit.” Waver’s voice is muffled and thick.

“Do you still have that strategy game? Now, what was it called…”

Waver pulls away and wipes at his face. “Admirable Great Tactics. And of course I do.”

Iskandar grins at him again and clasps him on the shoulder. “Good. I hope you’ve been practicing.”

“I’ll have you know I’m the best strategist in Chaldea.”

The grin widens. “Even better.” His voice lowers, faces close, and he gives Waver a knowing look. “You can show your king what you’ve learned.”

This will be the end of him, Waver thinks, face burning. He turns away to pick up the smoldering cigar, forgotten on the floor, and puts it out in the ashtray. He straightens, readjusts his scarf to hide the wet fabric, and tries to settle his face into the calm, collected expression of someone deserving the El-Melloi name.

He’ll have to thank Ritsuka for this, later. Somehow.

“This way, my king,” he says as he walks past Iskandar into the hallway, knowing without looking back the presence behind him, following.


End file.
